Page 89 of The Girl Who Only Died Once

“Okay, I think that’s a cryptic as fuck sentence and I don’t like that,” Chloe says, finally sitting back. “I knew I needed to be able to see demons and other creatures to find my friend, I knew that people brought back by Necromancers can see them easily, I knew two Necromancers. Do the math and stop bothering me about it.”

For a split second he doesn’t react, before his chin spasms and the expression of terror crosses his face, quickly smoothed away.

She holds his eye, willing herself to pour all personality into that connection, all force of will, how much it matters to her.

And all of the frustration, all of the difficulties with Gurlien being mad at her and the soft judgment of the Wights of her actions, all the discomfort and the lack of sleep.

He doesn’t glance away, but stands, stalking close to her, and she refuses to be cowed, craning her neck to keep the eye contact, until he looms over her, both his hands braced on the desk around her, leaving her trapped.

Of course she’s trapped.

The silence between them stretches on, twisting and warping into something thick, something weighty, until Chloe can do nothing but taste it.

“And I’m not going to apologize,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do anything to get my friend to safety. Anything.”

“They didn’t warn you?” he whispers back, barely on the edge of hearing. “All those friends, all those connections, and they didn’t warn you away from this?”

There’s something in his tone, something she can’t parse, so she bares her teeth at him in a smile, like how Ambra does when she wants to unsettle or when Mel does when trying to get someone to back off.

“They did. I did it anyways.”

His eyes narrow, ever so minutely, like he’s seeing her once more for the first time. Like she’s once more a stranger to him, once more an enigma.

Before his face splits into a grin, wide, fitting well over the human skin and the demonic presence underneath.

She represses a startle back.

“So, Chloe, the perfectly normal alchemist, who dove underground to save her friend, who willingly faced death, who has befriended now multiple demons…you’re starting to finally make sense,” he says, voice low, but a smile coats his words, like he’s finding glee in this discussion. “How many of them, if you asked, would stop what they’re doing and run to help you?”

Chloe opens her mouth, but he beats her to it.

“We already proved that Zoel would send his girlfriend across the country just to deliver some papers,” he says. “Ambra—she was the one who teleported you in, when we first met, she must’ve been—would help the moment you let her.”

“She doesn’t want to come in the no teleportation zone,” Chloe interjects, weak.

He waves his hand. “And you have a Necromancer friend who’s willing to bring you back on something not critical. Something you volunteered for.” The smug smile is back on his face. “Necromancers are in danger each time they use their power, and this one was willing to go along with your scheme.”

Chloe crosses her arms, keeping her chin up to match his eye contact, and the little wrinkles around his human eyes crinkle up, the demon face beneath it matching.

“Do you have a point?”

The hand on the chair lifts, draping over the back of her neck, and she freezes, like he cast a spell on her.

“Yes,” he says, low and amused. “I think I finally figured you out.”

Chloe shivers a bit, underneath his warm hand. Which is weird, that his hand would be so lifelike, considering he’s in a dead body.

But the physical touch is the same as it would’ve been if anyone else touches her.

“And?” she challenges, after the momentary lapse in the conversation. “You can’t just say that with that lead up.”

He grins at her, sudden and charming, and she just squints further.

“No, that’s not the end of the conversation,” Chloe protests. “That’s not—”

“If you tear down those wards without issue—” he nods back at the maps in front of her, and her neck prickles at the reminder, “then I’ll tell you.”

“Asshole,” Chloe remarks, and again, he grins, even though her heart pounds. “That’s a coward's way out.”

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